


if starlight could see us

by undercookeddaichi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Language, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moonlight, SemiShira Week 2020, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercookeddaichi/pseuds/undercookeddaichi
Summary: In which Shiratorizawa lost, and Semi and Shirabu come to terms with it on the roof a little past midnight._Day 5 of SemiShira Week 2020: Stargazing
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 18
Kudos: 96





	if starlight could see us

"We're not allowed to be up here."

"Like you actually care about that." 

"Fuck you."

"Shut up, Kenjirou." 

The back of Shirabu's head hurts. It's the dull kind of ache that comes from lying on cement in the middle of the night. It hurts inside his head more than outside, like it's seeping into his brain and trying to get out through his eyes, pushing on his eyes. The dull kind of pain that feels like it won't go away unless he presses his head harder onto the concrete, like more pain will make it hurt less, but of course it doesn't make it hurt less and everything is only fucking worse. 

Staring up, losing himself in the black swallowing them both, he has to count his breaths to keep from suffocating. It's terrifying, the universe. It's so dark that he can't breathe right. But he doesn't want to move, even if his head hurts, even if he doesn't know how long they've been up here on the roof. He doesn't want to move again a day in his life. 

The petty, ugly side of Shirabu Kenjirou. He doesn't want to move anymore, and that only frustrates him further. 

He holds his breath. 

His fingernails dig into the roof until it hurts. 

For a fragment of a moment, he thinks he'll scream, but his breath deflates out of his mouth rather than rushes from his lungs, and it's disappointing, somehow. He would have to inhale again to scream. He would be doing something a favor to inhale, though, so he doesn't want to. His body, maybe. 

Fuck that. 

_"Fuck."_ Semi seethes.

There's a noise that sounds like Semi's fist thudding against the cement. 

Shirabu tries to scream. Nothing comes out. He grinds his teeth together, forces his fingertips deeper into concrete. 

It hurts. His entire body hurts. 

"And you know why I'm really fucking pissed?" Semi says to the sky. 

"Shut up."

"Because you were so good." He slams his fist against the roof again, a little harder. "You did so fucking _good,_ Kenjirou." 

"Fuck you." 

Semi pulls himself up. 

A few clouds blocking the moon drift away. It’s not full yet, but it will be tomorrow, or maybe the day after. The way it dusts Semi’s cheeks, white and silver like that, the moonlight makes it look like he’s crying. He picks up a leaf that must’ve blown onto the roof. 

It’s silent, other than an occasional breeze ruffling trees and hair. The sound of the leaf ripping in Semi’s hand is loud. So loud. 

Shirabu hasn’t let himself look at Semi since this morning. He didn’t trust himself to, not after the match. 

Not that he could look at much of anything with so many insufferable tears drowning his waterline. He spent twenty minutes locked in the bathroom trying to make them stop, make the sobs stop, and even though Semi always makes it stop, he didn’t want to see him. 

Semi would have made it worse by making him feel better. 

Shirabu doesn’t want to be with him now, either, on the roof of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball gym at midnight. But he doesn’t know where else to go. He couldn’t sleep if he tried. 

It’s the first time Shirabu’s looked at Semi since they lost.

There are pink shadows under his eyes, and his hair is sticking up in weird places. His hair, the same shade as the moon, except Semi doesn’t act like the moon. 

“We would’ve won.” 

Semi scoffs. “Don’t you _dare_ start on that bullshit.” 

“If you played setter, we would’ve won.”

“God, Kenjirou, this isn’t- it isn’t about that, okay?” Semi starts to look down at him, but he gets directed by the crumpled leaf in his hand. “It isn’t about any one person. How many times do I have to tell you that? You did everything you could and you were so fucking good and we-” He chokes on the last word. “We lost. Okay?” 

Pretty much every person on the volleyball team told Shirabu some distorted version of the same thing, of that idiotic _it’s not one person’s fault,_ as if that will change how much he fucked up. This guilt eating him from the inside. 

Because that’s the point. It isn’t about him. 

“It’s your last year, Semi.” Shirabu focuses on a star to keep himself together. “This was your last chance.”

“It’s not like I haven’t been to Nationals before.” 

“But it’s your last fucking year.”

“I know, Kenjirou. I know that.” 

“Then be upset with me.” 

“No.”

“Be angry with me.” Shirabu sits up. His head hurts more now. 

“Why? So you can justify blaming yourself or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing?” 

“I deserve it.”

“Why?”

“You should’ve played today.” One of Shirabu’s nails is bleeding. “It was your last game. You should’ve played.”

“No one expected us to lose.” 

Shirabu suddenly leans over, grabs Semi’s collar with both hands because his tie is unfastened and yanks him forward, knocks him off balance. “Be fucking mad at me.” 

The air is cold enough that they exhale smoke. Shirabu can count the stars in Semi’s eyes. His hands, his fingers feel weak gripping Semi’s shirt. Like if he lets go he’ll cry again. 

“I am mad at you.” Semi murmurs. 

“Then act like it.” 

“I’m mad at you for blaming yourself.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I would rather lose every game than watch you beat yourself up like this.” 

“Fuck you, Semi Eita.” 

Shirabu’s still holding on, but he’s crying. Maybe he’s been crying the whole time. He’s still holding on, but he falls forward, collapses into Semi’s chest, crying stupid, loud, snotty tears. Semi tugs him closer. 

_“Fuck you.”_ Shirabu’s voice breaks. _“Fuck you.”_

“I’m so proud of you.” Semi rests his chin on top of Shirabu’s hair. 

Another cloud must float in front of the moon, blocking its light, because it becomes darker outside Shirabu’s eyelids for a long moment. His breathing shakes and his tears are warm. Then the cloud must drift on, because the moon comes back out. 

Like Shirabu feared, something about the way Semi’s rubbing slow circles into his back slows his tears. At some point, he stops crying enough to rest his cheek on Semi’s shoulder instead. It’s not so cold, when they’re close like this. 

“What the hell am I supposed to do without you next year?” Shirabu asks. 

“You’ll still have me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” 

“But…” Shirabu hesitates. “Do you mean that? About us.”

“Do I think we’ll still be together next year?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I can picture my life without you, so, yeah. As long as that’s what you want, too.” 

“I do.”

“But?” Semi nudges him. 

He always knows when Shirabu’s not saying something. 

“What if you meet someone at university?” 

“Kenjirou.” Semi sighs, squeezes him. “Where am I ever gonna find someone as bratty yet endearing as you?”

Shirabu tries to kick him, but he just rocks them both to the side a little. Semi smiles, kisses the top of his head. 

“You’re mine until you don’t want to be.” 

Shirabu doesn’t know how his body has enough energy to blush. “That’s going to be a long time.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

Shirabu nods. 

“Then marry me.” 

Shirabu jerks up, struggling out of Semi’s arms and staring at him with pure panic in his eyes. It makes him feel marginally better that Semi has a humorous smirk on his face, but still. Still. 

“What the fuck? We’re teenagers. And we can’t get married, not in Japan. Semi, what the fuck-”

“Kenjirou, chill out.” Semi laughs, cups Shirabu’s chin and runs his thumb along his jaw. “I’m joking. I know all that.”

“Then why would you say that?”

“I wanted to see how you would react.” He shrugs. “And maybe I meant it.”

“Semi-”

“Not now. Obviously not anytime soon. I’m just saying that I love you.”

Shirabu watches him carefully, his heart rate uncomfortably high, his face and his hands getting hotter. But Semi spreads his arms, inviting Shirabu back into them, and he gives in. 

“It’ll be okay. Next year, you’ll be okay. And when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be okay, too.” Semi stares back up at the moon once Shirabu is comfortable. “Win for me. Next time.”

“I will.” 

“You better.”

“I love you, too.” 

Shirabu has never been a fan of stargazing, but this isn’t too bad. That’s what this has to be, stargazing. 

It’s beautiful up here. With Semi, it’s beautiful. 

“Is that a planet?” Semi nods up at something.

“Where?”

“There. Above the moon.”

“No. That’s a star.”

If they had won, they wouldn’t be up here now. 

It’ll probably take Shirabu months to let it go. To quit feeling guilty. He played his last game with Semi today, and he didn’t know it. He might not ever let this go. 

But if they had won, they wouldn’t be up here now. 

Under starlight, together. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i intended on doing all 7 days of semishira week, but i let time get away from me :( however, the prompts for day 5 inspired me too much to miss. this is shorter than what i usually write, but i enjoyed playing around with angst in a brief moment of time, especially with these 2. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, semi and shirabu and their relationship have a special place in my heart. i hope this made you feel something ❤️  
> thank you for reading, love you ~


End file.
